The Tale of Two Duners (Doners)

To many of you, the word means nothing. To some, including myself, it means much more. It all starts with a soft, fluffy, circular flour shell. Its body has the strength to hold in copious quantities of deliciousness, yet still has the soft and comfortable feeling that you can only find in a pile of fresh laundry (dry of course). The shell is heavily powdered in white flour which upon every bit it leaves your lips looking like, well, white. What is inside this gift from god you ask? Well, the toppings can vary from place to place, but there is usually one constant ingredient that can be found in all doners, MEAT (Sorry, Tyler/Thomas and other grass eaters). Though, without meat doners have been said to exist, I intend to write only about ones with meat. This juicy meat concoction is comprised of many different stacks of “Meat”. This “Meat” is a mystery to the world; it could be beef, chicken, pork, hell maybe even fish. It rotates ever so gracefully around an open air rotisserie thing (Think about that magic Rotisserie machine on TV but bigger and without saying the words, “Set it! And Forget!”) The “meat” is carved off by a highly skilled and trained craftsman (or a pimply high school kid trying to earn money for Friday’s disco) and the “meat” falls gentle into a pile comprised of “character” building ingredients.

As I dive into the art of a duner, I must not forget to mention one of the most critical ingredients, the Sauce. Many say that a duner is to be graded upon this said sauce. Much emphasis and focus is aimed towards the duner sauce. So duner stands will fall or raise in the face of a good or bad sauce. The sauce may be too strong, too garlicky, too runny, too chunky, too sour, too sweet or maybe just plan nasty.

The shell is quickly warmed on a stove top and then the sauce is placed on the shell (generously). The “meat” is then placed in the doner followed by the any of the following ingredients:

Cabbage (sometimes the cabbage consists of Carrots and other “tasty” ingredients) the cabbage can range in colors, green to brown, depending on the freshness. For the full experience, brown and wilted is recommended.

French Fries- From the crispy ness to the wimpyness, French Fries play the “filler” role in this meal. You can tell what type of owner runs the doner stand you are at by the amount of fries you receive. The more in the doner, the less “meat” you will receive. This means the owner is a cheap bastard and his stand should never be returned to. You also need to be aware of the grease content of the fries.

Rice – Rice is a rare ingredient. It was first introduced when the mass influx of Mexicans came to Bulgaria. They brought with them Cinco De Mayo and Burritos. This habit to add rice to burritos then transcended to the doners. The rice allows a more consistent doner. It acts to balance the greasiness and the textures of the meal without overpowering the taste. Rice is a premium product that is added and only quality stands added it to there arsenal.

Pickles – Just as adding corn to pizza is a mystery to me, Pickles to doners are the same way. They do add to the taste, but in an unuseful way. The saltiness of the pickles is lost in the saltiness of the fries and “meat”. The pickles come in many sizes, but the most popular is the spear type.

Tomatoes – Bulgaria grows some of the world’s best tomatoes. The juiciness and sweetness of every tomato here assures you that Bulgaria soil is awesome. You can never have enough tomatoes.

Condiments – I for one am all for adding Ketchup to any meal. Eggs, toast, salads, and now for duners. Why not add to that 1000 calorie duner with a little Ketchup and a whole hell of a lot of Mayo. So add soy sauce, hot sauce, pepper, more salt and oil. I would recommend keeping it simple to employ the full duner experience.

This goodness is all wrapped and packaged in a plastic sack, which is a miracle in itself, and served to you for a low price. Needless to say, it is my crack rock of Bulgaria.

You may ask yourself, “Why explain in such detail the doner?” Well, to add to the reasoning of course. Two weeks ago was our IST. It was a refresher course for us and all the B22s and B21s were in attendance. It was held in the beautiful town of Hissar. The only thing I remember about that place was the super sweet indoor water slide. Who know that time trials down a waterslide would be so fun.

Enough serious talk (If you haven’t notice, I will try to keep serious issues and stories to a bear minimum, because you know as well as I, you don’t want to read about my “life changing events”), I was out in a fabulous town in Bulgaria with a man that will be called, Pablo. At the end of the night, walking perfectly straight lines and reciting the alphabet forward and backwards, we approached the heavenly Doner Stand. Now thing back to college, where El Famous Burrito or Papa Johns was a mere few seconds from realization, here it is the same. A perfect night will be capped off by a carbohydrate loaded meal at 4 in the morning. Here is no different except Duners are substituted instead of Taco Bell. Pablo and I proceeded to cap off our glorious night with two giant duners. I handed him his and then, with my right hand holding deliciousness, turned. As the smell creped towards my nose, out of nowhere, a hand, swifter then mine forced my heaven in a shell to the ground. In a state of shock, I looked into the eyes of the culprit and to my surprise it was Johnny Sourpants. I thought to myself, with the utmost clarity in mind, “What the F$## are you doing?” Words were exchanged; none to be mentioned here, and as cooler heads prevailed, Johnny Sourpants walked to the stand to by me a new doner. Still in shock and awe, I looked at the poor casualty on the ground. There it laid; cabbage and meat sprawled out of the shell. That night I shed a single tear for that KIA Duner. As Johnny handed me a newly made duner with extra sauce, a flash of clarity jolted through my mind. With the duner in my hand for less then two seconds, I immediately launched the duner upon Johnny’s face. Oh the site, a direct hit that ran from the upper left temple to the nose. Man, I really should give the maker of that duner a tip because he must have put extra duner sauce in there. It ran down his head and may have got in his eyes which sent him walking away in shame. Two doners down, and tired I headed to Bed. Just remember, messing with a man (or woman)’s duner is like messing with his family. You just don’t do it. So here is to you Mr. Dunersmackerouterhand Man, Think twice before you act on a person’s duner.


Ok, I am out, Next time I will talk about my adventures to Romania.

Take care and Stay Classy,

Chase Read more!

Peace out Hommies

No post for the next week or so.

I will be in Hissar for "re-education" sessions.

Stay Classy,

Chase Read more!

The Maid that wasn't

They have many names, domestic workers, house servant, maids, housekeepers and my favorite, French maids (that’s beside the point). Since the beginning of time, when the rich decided that it was no longer necessary to wipe their own дупе, there have been maids. It has been well noted that if you are able to acquire said domestic worker, you must be a relatively well off individual. With that said, I never, in a million years, thought that when I came to Bulgaria I would have a maid of my own, or so I thought.

My apartment is located in an apartment block. Not like an apartment found on Addison, but rather a cement monstrosity circa Soviet Union era. It is not the most appealing site to one’s eyes, but it does the job. I enjoy it thoroughly. It is a spacious, two bedroom, one kitchen, full bath, ICE BOX. I stress the words, ice box, emphatically. I live on the 3^rd floor and have many neighbors, one of which is a friendly, old baba with a wicked baba hood. Seriously, it’s like a package of Skittles melted on her head and now resembles a shawl. Anyway, when I first moved in (October) we had several friendly conversations, most of which included me saying hello in Bulgarian three different ways and then saying that I love dogs. Throughout our conversations, she would always say something like,”Чист” followed by”Blahblahblah, somethingsomethingsomething idontknowwhatthisladyissaying butijustkeepstaringather mustacheandiamwonderingifminecouldeverbeasthick, Добре?” and with my outstanding Bulgarian skills, this literally translates to, “Clean, OK?”. I said sure. I believed that for a set price, which she pointed out on her field-stricken hands, would clean my apartment with a vacuum cleaner. The set price was 2 leva. Man, what a deal. My first maid and it will only cost 2 leva. I was moving on up in the underdeveloped world.

Days would pass and for weeks on end I wondered. I had yet to receive this wonderful lady in my home. I wasn’t sure how the process was going to work. Does she come to my door when she wants to clean? Should I find her apartment and ask for her to come down and clean? The answers to these questions eluded me time after time. I would see her outside time and again. The converstion was the same over and over and it always ended with, “2 leva”.

Three months had past and no maid. The excitement of not having to clean my dishes the whole time in Bulgaria quickly wore off and I had to resort to manual labor (after the mouse, Sammy II, began leaving presents for me in the kitchen). I was sad and disappointed that my 3 month *integration plan of talking with the local maid had disappeared. I started thinking about why this old baba would tease me. Was it because I was American and she thought that it would be funny to exploit my Americanism of laziness? Maybe yes, but I don’t think she thought that much into it.

So after a great New Years in Plovdiv, I returned smelly and hung-over to Belene. I was met in the hall by a guy (who I was told later, had been recently released from the town’s prison) that claimed to be the son of good ole’ Skittle head. He spoke with an angry tone and very fast. While I was trying to listen to the man speak, the timed lights in the hallway kept going out. He began to speak louder and louder as I started to realize what he was talking about. He was inquiring about his mother (Skittle head) and the payments of 2 leva that she was suppose to receive. I told him in Bulgarian, it might as well of been Arabic, that she never cleaned my apartment and that I was not going to pay her money. This made him very upset and he became visibly frustrated. The entire time that damn light kept going on and off. Finally, cooler heads prevailed, with the intervention from another neighbor, and we parted ways.

I told the story to my counterpart and he quickly launched an investigation. He came back and started laughing. I guess the Skittle head lady was not trying to clean my apartment, but rather she cleaned the staircase for a monthly fee. All the tenants of the building paid her 2 leva a month to clean up the stairs. So all this time, thinking I was going to have a maid, it turns out this lady was just trying to get me to pay her 2 leva for her job on the stairs. Well, don’t I feel like the horse’s ass.

Take care and you stay classy,

Chase Read more!

Writer's Strike hits Bulgaria

Yes, I know. You have all missed my ever so inspiring blogs and its impeccable grammar, its hair-raising tales of babas and stray dogs, and even the mysterious epic of "what’s that green stuff under my sink". I won't begin to make excuses for my recent lack of blogging, but over the past two months, I have indeed experienced what writers call, "Writers Block". Yes its true, in order to have "writers block" you must both have writing skill and actually write material that people read. So since I lack both of these necessary skills to be a true writer, I must then just be lazy.

Why the recent resurgence of my elegant blogs? One word, Kellen......and a few other people that write blogs often (Thomas, Jimmy, and Tyler). Along with Kellen, I plan to write at least something, whether it’s about my recent integration* mishaps, or just a discussion about my most recent bowel movement. I am not doing this for me, but rather my loyal readers (Mom, Dad, and CP). Oh, Merry Christmas by the way.

Update: Work is going well. In my free time, I am teaching English (yes, hold your laughter), reading (again, try not to laugh), and expanding my group of friends here. I am really enjoying it in good ole' Belene.

(*) - This asterisk will be placed next to the word "integration" every time it is written in my blogs. The reason being, I have no idea, nor can I find someone that can tell me what this word really means. It is a word that is used a lot here, but is overused and a word people try to define, but often fail miserably.

Stay Classy,
Chase Read more!